It was not that beautiful a day. The air was also not very pure.
Just a drizzle had made the roads muddy. The smell of burning tyres that were used to make warm poor neighborhoods had made the breeze pungent.
Local elections had sparked communal tensions. Saffron or green evoked strong reactions. The walkway around the lake however, was used by all. The breeze was better, the blue sky was visible and the green hustling leaves were so peaceful. Clouds were running past high above. Ducks roosted in the shallow waters while cranes standing on one leg napped while fishing.
It was the son who wanted to go out around the walkway.
He got ready, wore a saffron lungi and took his son for a walk in the breeze. The stars had not started shining yet, though the sun was below the horizon and the shadows had disappeared. The sound of a distant train horn set many cranes flying. The son jumped with ecstasy, spread his hands and flew with the cranes. Seeing his son he did the same and flew with his son. He did not see the man in the green shirt coming near with a knife.
In the pain that tore through his back and into his heart, he turned, grabbed the man’s left wrist with his left iron hand while from his right he grabbed his son’s hand. Placing his son’s hand into the man’s, he said “Drop him home”. After his right hand was free, he placed it on the man’s forehead and said “Alla rakha” before he dropped to the ground.
The man was shocked but dropped the child home. He was never again found in the neighborhood. The child’s mother filed a murder report in the local police station. The next day, the child’s mother’s cousin sister filed a missing person report.
It has been 20 years since I lost my father. He still flies with me whenever I fly with the cranes as the sky goes saffron when the sun goes down the horizon. The green hustling leaves hear our merry laughs.
Photo By: Pradeep Sahoo
Submitted by: देवसुत
Submitted on: Sat Aug 22 2015 21:37:54 GMT+0530 (IST)